


Down to the Marrow

by Capriccio



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Beach Sex, Coda, M/M, On the Potomac, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, so be it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 09:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13210821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capriccio/pseuds/Capriccio
Summary: Bucky’s face is set in a frown as his hands run over Steve’s body, checking for injuries. Steve feels his heartbeat kicking up. Maybe he’s swallowed too much water or taken too many blows to the head, but he wants to keep Bucky’s hands on him more than he can think.





	Down to the Marrow

**Author's Note:**

> Heaps and heaps of thanks to significantowl!

Something hits him in the chest. Once. Twice. Steve is coughing, water rushing from his lungs, before the third blow lands.

He gasps for breath, struggling to open his eyes as he senses someone close by. When he finally manages to focus his gaze on the figure hovering over him, it’s not fear that makes his pulse race and his adrenaline spike.

“Bucky,” Steve says, dragging in air to say his name. He pushes himself upward, his body shaking with the strain. “ _Bucky_.”

“Stop talking,” Bucky says, low. He presses a hand firmly on Steve’s chest, guiding him back toward the ground. Steve draws in a deep, shuddering breath, exhaling slowly as he sinks back onto the sand, his muscles automatically relaxing at his touch.

Bucky’s face is set in a frown as his hands run over Steve’s body, checking for injuries. Steve feels his heartbeat kicking up. Maybe he’s swallowed too much water or taken too many blows to the head, but he wants to keep Bucky’s hands on him more than he can think. He can’t feel any pain. All he can feel is Bucky’s hands holding him— _anchoring_ him—down.

“You’re bleeding,” Bucky says, his tone hard. He starts to stand, rising upward from where he’s bent over Steve. Steve tries to follow, pressing up against Bucky’s metal hand, but can’t break his hold. Heat sparks along his skin as he tries.

It only lasts for a moment—not long enough. “I’m fine,” Steve says, his tongue thick in his mouth.

“I’ve heard that one before,” Bucky mutters, and pauses. Steve stares up at him, watching Bucky’s face as he sifts through the memories. He blinks once, and his face changes as he levels a glare at Steve. It’s a look that leaves Steve’s eyes burning and his chest aching. The last of his doubts shatter.

Steve surges up, takes a breath, and hauls Bucky on top of him. Steve has a fraction of a second to register the startled, hungry look on Bucky’s face before Steve kisses him. Bucky’s mouth is cold and tastes of blood—Steve kisses him deeply, past all the hurt to where his heart lies, beating like a drum underneath Steve’s hand.

Bucky is heavy, but Steve will take every ounce of him he can get. He’s dizzy with the lack of oxygen, his lungs burning, as the weight of Bucky crushes him, leaving him breathless. He rolls Bucky over, settling over him and pressing him into the ground. Steve wants to keep going, to sink into him and never stop. He scrapes his mouth brutally against Bucky’s, digging his hands into his shoulders. Steve’s fingers itch to skim across all the scars on Bucky’s body, to erase every mark they ever made on his skin.

Something dark flashes across Bucky’s face, and Steve wants to chase it to wherever it will go—he knows he runs deeper in Bucky than anything they ever did to him. “Buck,” he says again. “You know me.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says softly like it’s being torn out of him, “I do,” and Steve is just close enough to hear the words spoken against his skin. Steve breathes in and out, watching Bucky’s chest as he does the same. It’s the first time this century his lungs feel full.

Bucky rolls them over once more, showering them in sand. He cradles Steve’s head and takes his mouth in a bruising kiss. Steve slides his hands along Bucky’s back, dragging him closer. He’s hot to the touch, and Steve tightens his grip. Steve winces as he feels his cock spike to hardness, so quick it’s almost painful. He’s rutting up against Bucky’s hipbone, gasping harshly as he scrabbles at Bucky’s belt, his fingers clumsy with arousal.

Bucky works methodically at Steve’s pants, and Steve shivers at the coolness of the air and the determined brush of Bucky’s metal hand across his skin. The belt finally undone, Steve shoves his hand inside Bucky’s pants, reaching for his cock. Bucky is thick and heavy, already slick and hot for him. His cock leaps eagerly into Steve’s grip, and Steve muffles his groan into Bucky’s shoulder. Steve takes them both in hand, aligning them together. Panting, Steve stares up at Bucky, who’s wearing a fierce look of concentration on his face. He splays one hand across Steve’s hips, while his metal hand reaches in between them, his fingers intertwining with Steve’s. Bucky slides them against each other, working them roughly, and it’s so good, Steve can feel it up to his teeth, the pressure and the pleasure threatening to shatter his bones apart.

He arches up while Bucky grinds down on him, desperate for every touch of friction between them. He’s rubbing himself against every part of Bucky he can reach—his skin, his mouth, his cock—trying to touch him everywhere he can. Bucky grunts, a harsh sound, then gasps against Steve’s mouth. Steve’s breath speeds up in response.

His head jerks at the feel of Bucky’s metal hand on him, feeling the plates of his fingers shift minutely and move over his cock. Steve snaps his head back onto the sand, dizzy with pleasure. He curls his fingers tighter and pulls at them blindly, guided by touch and feel, stroking them together urgently.

“Bucky,” Steve breathes out against Bucky’s neck. “Please, Buck,” he says, gasping.

Bucky groans again, his hand on their cocks quickening, and begins thrusting against him harder. Steve slides his hand down, twisting his palm and letting his fingers glide around them both, tightening his grip to press them closer together. Bucky’s breath hitches, the sound of it sending Steve moaning into his neck.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky says, so close that Steve feels the thrum of it underneath his skin, and he’s undone at the sound of his name on Bucky’s lips, coming apart between their hands. He feels Bucky shift over him, pressing their foreheads together as he finishes himself off, moving their hands on him until Steve feels Bucky’s entire body jerk, then still. Steve can’t help arching into it, kissing Bucky again and again until he’s done, until he feels Bucky shudder and collapse on top of him.

Steve lies there, panting, staring up at the sky as all the pieces of himself settle back together. He feels Bucky lift himself away and sit up next to him. He’s oddly comforted when he hears the rustle of fabric and the snap of Bucky’s belt. Steve watches the clouds contentedly, his head, heart, and body finally quieted.

“You’re hurt,” Bucky says, low. Steve turns his head. Bucky’s looking over at him, his hands clenching and unclenching like he should but can’t let him go.

“You should see the other guy,” Steve says, and cracks a grin.

Bucky stares at him for an uncomprehending moment. Then the corner of his mouth turns upward the slightest bit as he says, “Idiot.”

Steve has never felt so glad to hear the word. He sits up, jerking his pants on, to face him. “If it brought you back to me, Buck, I’ll take anything you got.”

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, eyelashes fluttering as he sighs. When he opens them to look at Steve, his face is closed off again. He pushes himself off the ground with his metal hand, a determined look on his face. He cradles his other arm with it and takes a limping step away.

“Wait, Bucky,” Steve says. It hurts in just the right way to say his name again. He can tell Bucky’s heard him by the silence and the crunch of gravel.

Bucky doesn’t turn, but shakes his head once, sharp.

Steve swallows a protest and waits, trusting him without words. He closes his eyes and soaks up the weak sunlight, hearing a splash of water and the crash of waves on the beach. He can hear the metal groaning from the helicarriers as they sink deeper into the Potomac, the air heavy with acrid smoke. Steve doesn’t move, letting the blood sluggishly well up from his scrapes and bruises, feeling his muscles and bones knit slowly back together. He keeps his eyes closed, not caring for how long, until he hears the scrape of sand and the reverberation of metal as something thunks onto the beach beside him. His shield.

“You went back for it,” Steve says. He opens his eyes.

Bucky eyes him critically, then turns away. “I’m not. Leaving you,” he says shortly. “Got it?”

“Got it,” Steve says. His eyes fall shut as he hears Bucky’s footsteps recede in the distance.

Steve feels no pain at Bucky’s departure. Steve can feel Bucky down to the bones of him, to the marrow, to the beating of his heart—part of him and all of him is in everything Steve is.

He lies back down on the sand, breathing through it, and waits for them to find him.

 


End file.
